VOICES 7
Myself

Ka Hea: The Call

To go through rain alone in the deep night
Is never less hard than before or any safer.
But I will find you and speak with you
     Out of nothing.

There is no one here. I cannot sing for myself.
How shall I free the body the words need?
I uncover, as I would to you,
     Shoulder, breast, belly and thigh.

Under my bare feet, the unshaken cliff, fixed in the ocean.
The firestriking, prised-apart sky beyond my stretching arms.
Rock of my body raked by rain as I wait for the wind
     That rises from nothing.

I have never known before now such pure cold
As swirls inside this cliff, beginning to quiver
As the wind collects what is lost still
     In thick night.

A soft bite. A shivering. A leap. A ghostly air
Rising where you are.
A night wind blowing time around
     Some form of life.

And I sink into rifts in your memory's sleep,
Peaceably falling, I slip into your dream's abyss.
I drift in the endlessly shaken out wind
That endlessly speaks the things I have needed
While it carries me down
Into silence, into safety, into morning,
At the base of the cliff.

　

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